


At The Stroke Of Twelve

by MedieavalBeabe



Category: Cinderella - Fandom, Fairytale - Fandom, Genderbend - Fandom
Genre: Genderbend, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:42:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a handsom young man whose wicked stepfather and ugly stepbrothers forced him to do all the housework after his mother died. A chance meeting with a beautiful woman at the market makes him look at life anew; but that woman is none other than a princess. Throw into the mix a dizzy fairy godmother, a royal ball, some golden leather shoes and a spell that will only last until midnight and the scene is set for a familiar fairytale with a genderbent twist!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Hopeful Hearts

Ash Enputtal raised his head. In the dingy kitchen, the sunlight made patterns on the wall above his bed and as the wind rustled the curtains over the window, the sunlight patterns danced in an almost lazy fashion. They reminded Ash of daffodils in a field. Beyond the window, he could hear birdsong and the sounds of the farm below waking up. 

Ash smiled and pushed back the duvet. He was a handsome, kind-hearted young man of nineteen with dark blonde hair and brown eyes and a cheerful smile, even though his life was far from cheerful. His father had died when he was only two years old and his mother, an intelligent, strong young woman, had raised him alone until he was about eight years old. She had been a kind and devoted mother who gave her young son everything he desired, without him even having to ask. They were happy together on their chateaux-farm but his mother had been worried that her son might become too feminine because of her raising him alone. He needed, she decided, a father figure to look up to and strive to be like. Thus, she had married a man of reputable stature named Lord Tremaine, who had two sons just a little older than Ash, named Piers and Miles. 

However, shortly after the marriage, Ash’s mother fell gravely ill and died, leaving her son in the care of his stepfather and stepbrothers. It was on the very evening of the funeral that Lord Tremaine’s true nature was revealed. 

“Where do you think you’re going, boy?” he had asked Ash as the eight year old mounted the stairs.

“To my room, Stepfather,” Ash had replied, bewildered.

“Your room?”

“His room!” had sniggered Piers and Miles.

“All the rooms in this house belong to me, now,” Lord Tremaine had snapped. “Your mother left everything to me in her will. You are not permitted to go anywhere from now on without my permission.”

“Then, may I please go to...to the room I sleep in, Stepfather?” Ash had asked. 

“You may,” his Stepfather had replied, with a curl of the lip, “but that will no longer be the room you sleep in.” He had swept Ash off into the kitchen and said to him “This is where you sleep from now on, since there are no actual servants quarters in this house. From now on, you will do all the work. Now, make us some tea; hop to it!”

Ash remembered that he had picked up on how to cook food fairly quickly, given the fact that his mother had very kindly left her cook books behind in the kitchen when she died. From that day onwards, he had been a servant in his own home. He had been made to sleep on a makeshift pallet bed in the kitchen and his clothes were so patched and frayed it was a wonder he had any left. He did all that was demanded of him with barely any complaint, however, because if he were to be kicked out of his own house, what then? Where would he go? 

It was time for him to get up and now he did so. A quick wash out in the garden at the pump was all he got in the way of cleansing these days; he was no longer permitted to use a proper bathroom. If he had time, sometimes in the evenings he would fill the tub in the shed with hot water, but it still didn’t compare to a proper bath. He had to use the outdoor lavatory as well; not that he minded that so much, but as with outdoor bathing, it could get quite cold in the winter. 

“Mustn’t grumble, though, must I, Mother?” he said to the small portrait of his mother he had salvaged when his stepfather had gotten rid of a lot of their stuff after the funeral. Ash treasured it and always kept it hidden in a tear in his mattress where his stepbrothers would never lay their hands on it. “After all...” He could never think of how to end that sentence, except with a shrug, and so he tucked the portrait away out of sight, dressed himself and set about his work. 

First things first, before he did anything else, he checked the mousetraps. There were no new mice today. Ash always released the mice that got themselves trapped outside again because he couldn’t see what harm they did. Alright, so they sometimes went after the cheese, but animals had to eat. It was inhumane to kill them, as his stepfather probably would if he found them in the traps, so Ash always made sure that he released them before his stepfather was awake. That was an advantage to having get up early. 

Ash got to his feet, stretched and sighed. Now he had to feed the animals before he could start preparing everyone’s breakfast and then finally eat himself. He picked up the bucket, went out to the pump, filled it and then carried it over to the stables. His mother’s old Shire horse Major and his own palomino Victoria were busy sharing a bale of hay. 

“Morning, guys,” Ash grinned, refilling their water trough. Major snorted in appreciation and Victoria went up to him for a pat. “I’ll sneak you two some carrots later,” Ash promised, patting her before moving on to feed the goats, the geese and the hens. He checked the henhouse. There were five eggs today. That was good. His stepfamily liked eggs for breakfast on a Thursday. He gathered them and went into the kitchen just as a bell began to ring from the dining room. 

“Ash!” came the demanding tones of his stepfather. 

“Coming!” Ash called back, hurrying to make their breakfast. He boiled the eggs, toasted the bread, buttered the toast, made the tea, and then piled everything onto one large tray and carried it quickly and steadily up to the dining room. His stepfamily were seated around the table. Lord Tremaine was reading the newspaper. Piers, the older brother at twenty two, was sorting through the post. Miles, who was twenty and chubby, was scowling into space. To pacify his mood, Ash served him first. None of them thanked him as he served them their breakfast. Miles immedietly began to scoff his egg and toast, in a manner best befitting a greedy lion.

Lord Tremaine scowled at Ash as he put his breakfast in front of him. “I hope you timed the eggs properly this time, boy.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Ash began, trying not to sound as if he was arguing. “If I hadn’t been up all night fixing your jacket, I would have been more awake when I-”

Lord Tremaine seized his arm in a vice-like grip. Ash winced. Piers and Miles looked up in eager anticipation. “Sorry, Ash, perhaps I’m going deaf or something,” said Lord Tremaine, in a slippery tone, “but I thought for a second then you were daring to challenge me.”

Ash blanched. “No, Stepfather, honestly. You know I’d never...”

“I pray not. Because otherwise, your punishment will be severe; do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Ash gulped. “As clear as crystal, Stepfather.”

“Good.” Lord Tremaine released him. “Now, you can scrub the floor in the front hall, first, and then you can wash all the windows, sweep all the carpets and then get on with finishing the mending you were supposed to finish yesterday.”

“But-!” Ash bit his lip, but too late, the damage was done.

“But?” Lord Tremaine raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

Piers got to his feet and seized Ash by the collar. “Got something to say, have we, pipsqueak?”

Ash squirmed in his gip. Alright, so Piers and Miles were a good few inches taller than he was, but he still resented that nickname, “pipsqueak.” “I-I just...” he stammered. 

“Well?” said Lord Tremaine. “I’m waiting and you know how I don’t like to be kept waiting, Ash.”

“Well, the front hall floor doesn’t need cleaning,” Ash said. “I cleaned it before bed last night; no one’s walked on it this morning. It’s still clean.”

Piers’ grip tightened on Ash’s collar and he gave him a little shake. “He’s getting disrespectful, Father,” said Miles through a mouthful of toast.

“It would seem so,” agreed Lord Tremaine.

“No!” insisted Ash. “I just-!”

Lord Tremaine got to his feet and stepped up to Ash. He had eyes like a hawk, Ash had always noticed. “I don’t care if you cleaned the front hall floor two minutes ago,” he said, jabbing a finger into Ash’s face, narrowly missing poking him in the eye. “I say it has to be cleaned. And it will be cleaned, won’t it?”

“Yes, Stepfather,” Ash said.

“Good.” Lord Tremaine looked at his son. “Let him go, Piers, before you choke him.”

“He deserves it,” grunted Piers, dragging Ash to the door and practically flinging him through it. Ash stumbled but managed to keep his balance. Still carrying the now empty breakfast tray, he went back down to the kitchen. The advantage of being sent to the kitchen alone so often was that he could cook for himself whatever he desired, providing he had all the ingredients handy, and his stepfather couldn’t do a thing about it. Taking up some cheese, tomatoes and ham, he cracked the remaining two eggs and whipped everything up into a tasty omelette for breakfast.

As he ate, a small lizard scuttled in through the open back door. Ash smiled. “Go on, shoo,” he said to the little thing. “I’m afraid there’s no room for animals in this house, according to my stepfather.” The lizard flicked its tongue at him and looked around the room. Ash got to his feet and picked up the little thing. It didn’t flinch, seeming to understand that he was gentle with animals. “If I had my way, I’d fill this place with animals, big and small,” Ash told it, walking outside. The lizard flicked its tongue at him, not in a vicious way, but a casual, lazy way. “A whole menagerie.” He sighed. “I’d love that. But, I can’t; not while my stepfather’s still in charge.”

He put the lizard on the ground and it scuttled off, content wherever it was. Ash went back to his breakfast. When he was done, he seized everything he needed and went upstairs to clean the hall floor, even though it didn’t need cleaning. But there was no arguing with his stepfather.

Piers and Miles came in whilst he was halfway through cleaning. “You missed a bit,” Piers said, smirking.

Ash looked around. “Where?”

“Here.” Ash realised now that they were both treading muddy footprints all over the part of the floor he’d just cleaned. He sighed. “Thanks a lot!”

“Teach you to mind your manners,” Miles grunted. 

“Grow up,” sighed Ash, bending down to scrub up the mud. As he did so, Miles whacked him around the back of the head, knocking him to the floor. Ash blinked up at him. “One more crack out of you,” Miles warned, “and you won’t be able to move for broken legs.”

Ash said nothing. He waited until they’d gone to pick himself up. “Brutes,” he muttered. It was true; whilst his stepbrothers might be older than him physically, mentally they acted like a couple of teenage bullies. 

He finished cleaning the floors and went on to clean the windows. The south side of the house looked out towards the great castle in the distance. It looked like a castle from a fairytale, and it was common knowledge that every time there was a ball or a celebration, the Royal Family let off fireworks. Ash always loved to watch them from the kitchen. He longed to see them up close. Even now, as he leaned out of the window to stare at the castle in all its glory, he wondered what the Royal Family there were up to. 

Well, in answer to that question, the Royal Family, or rather the King and Queen, were in a little bit of a panic. They could not find their daughter anywhere. 

“She wouldn’t have one far without Eliza,” said the King, referring to their daughter’s personal maid and confidante. The woman in question was currently helping them search for their daughter. “She’ll be around this place somewhere.”

“That girl!” sighed the Queen, shaking her enormous hairstyle. “She’s like a butterfly; never in one place long enough to lick a stamp!”

The servants were all running around in a flap, calling out. 

“Princess!”

“Princess Grace!”

“My lady!”

“Your highness!”

“Oh, where is that girl?” sighed the Queen. “Grace! Grace!”

“Gracie?” called the King.

“GRACE!”

“I’m here, Mama!”

Her parents turned to see their daughter, dressed in her outdoor clothes, hands on hips. Grace was just eighteen and very beautiful. Like her name suggested, she had something of a gracefulness about the way she moved and spoke. But she was also bold, adventurous and feisty, the latter she had inherited from her mother, no question. 

Grace spread her hands, questioningly. “What’s everyone getting so aerated for?”

Her mother tutted. “And just where have you been, Madame?”

“Out in the gardens, taking a walk.”

“Without Eliza?”

“Well, I couldn’t find her.”

“If you’d learn to stay still for a minute, we wouldn’t keep having problems like this,” her father told her, fondly.

Grace sighed, theatrically and ran a hand through her very long tangled mass of chocolate curls. “But I get so bored just standing around waiting for things to happen, you know that, Papa!”

He cuffed her lightly on the arm. “Are you implying that being a princess is boring, darling?”

“Well, no, but standing around waiting to be told what to do is boring,” she replied. 

“Well, you won’t have much time to stand around and wait for something to happen today, Gracie,” her mother told her. “We’re holding a ball in three nights time.”

“Another ball?” groaned Grace. “Mama, please, I know you want me to be married because you’re worried that I’ll die an old maid without providing you with a grandchild, but do you really think this is the right approach? I mean, I want to be in love when I marry; like you two were.”

“Oh, sweetie, there’s no reason you shouldn’t find the man of your dreams at the ball,” said her father, patting her shoulder.

“And if I don’t?”

“The ball will never end,” her mother declared.

“Mama!”

“We’d have to order a lot of food for that,” her father mused. 

“Papa!” Seeing that they were both teasing her, Grace smiled and shook her head. “You two are impossible. Very well, I shall go to the ball and I shall do my best to find someone to love, but if I can’t, then you two have to promise me to let me find love in my own way. Promise?”

“Promise,” said her father.

“Mama?”

“I promise, darling,” sighed her mother.

All three mimed crossing their hearts in the ancient gesture they had always used to show that the promises they made would be kept. “Good,” smiled Grace, sweeping up her skirts in the manner most befitting a princess. “I’ll go and find my best dress for the ball, then.”

“That girl,” sighed the Queen, as she left. “She’s right, of course.”


	2. Merely By Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a handsom young man whose wicked stepfather and ugly stepbrothers forced him to do all the housework after his mother died. A chance meeting with a beautiful woman at the market makes him look at life anew; but that woman is none other than a princess. Throw into the mix a dizzy fairy godmother, a royal ball, some golden leather shoes and a spell that will only last until midnight and the scene is set for a familiar fairytale with a genderbent twist!

“Ash!”

“What now?” Ash muttered, putting down the broom and making his way up to the music room. This had always been his mother’s favourite room; he could remember her sitting here at the piano, singing a merry tune in the summer time. Now the piano was never used, and it just sat gathering dust. The music room seemed to have been turned into a smoking room for his stepfamily. 

Ash stuck his head around the door. “You called, Stepfather?”

“You need to go to town,” drawled Lord Tremaine. 

“For what?”

“To pick up those new suits we had cut last week.”

“And those books we ordered,” Piers put in. 

“And bread. And cakes,” added Miles, with a greedy grin.

“And beer, and cigars,” finished Lord Tremaine.

Ash gulped. “That’s a lot to carry.”

“Better hop to it,” sneered Piers.

Ash left the room. Better take the cart, he thought, although how he was going to carry it all to the cart when he was finished, he had no idea.

Meanwhile, at the castle, Eliza, Grace’s middle aged, fussy but loving maid was peering around the corner of the staircase into the corridor beyond. “All clear, my lady,” she reported, turning back to the young princess. “But must you do this? That skirt you found barely covers your knees!”

Grace grinned at plucked at the dusky-rose skirt she had whipped up herself from an old dress. She wore a matching peasant blouse, a darker pink cummerbund and long brown boots. In essence, she looked more peddler than princess. Eliza, wearing her normal dark green dress, white apron and brown clogs, could easily pass as a nanny or an aunt, or even her mother should anyone ask. “Eliza, I have to do this. Just for one day, I want to see what it’s like to feel like a normal person, not a princess. Before I’m snapped up by some arrogant prince who’s down on his money or something, I need to live.”

Eliza couldn’t help smiling fondly at her. “Well, my lady, as you wish, but remember, any sign of trouble and we go back.”

“Yes, yes, Eliza, don’t fuss so,” smiled Grace, good-naturedly. Eliza had the patience of a saint and she was very fond of the woman. “Now, come on, quickly, before anyone sees us sneaking out.”

Together the pair of them hurried out through the castle courtyard and through the gates. “Should we not take the carriage, my lady?” panted Eliza.

“I don’t want anyone to suspect where we’ve come from,” Grace explained. “I want people to think we’re just travellers or something, new in town.”

“Well, don’t go straying too far from my sight,” Eliza scolded. “I know you’re excited, but please, don’t wander off.”

“Alright, Eliza,” sighed Grace, theatrically, staring around the little town. It was such a bustling place, especially on market day, which it was today. Here and there, peddlers were selling their wares, calling out at the tops of their voices.

“Eggs! Eggs! Get your eggs here!”

“Fresh fish! Caught just this morning!”

“Ripe strawberries!”

“Ribbons and lace!”

“Any milk today, mistress?”

“Flowers!”

“The best pies in town! Get them while they’re hot!”

Grace twirled around, enraptured by it all. She swiftly lost sight of Eliza, who was being pressed to buy some soap on a rope by a rather pushy female merchant. 

“Fortunes told!”

“Try some homebrewed ale!”

“Apples! Pears! Just about every fruit you can think of!”

Ash, in the throng of it all, weighed down by parcels, could barely see where he was going. As he tried to navigate his way past a gypsy woman trying to temp people with a crystal ball and a woman carrying a yoke with two buckets of buttermilk balanced either end, someone knocked into him. Ash stumbled with a yelp and dropped everything he was carrying. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Grace, seeing what she’d done. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Ash replied, ducking down to pick them all up. Thankfully the paper hadn’t ripped, so everything was still pretty much in tact.

“I’m such an idiot,” Grace said, bending down to help him. “I should have looked where I was going.”

Ash laughed. “No harm done,” he insisted as they picked up the parcels. Then they both reached for the wrapped box of cigars at the same time. Grace reached it first. Ash’s hand fell on hers. Their eyes met. 

For a second, Ash couldn’t speak. He found himself staring at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life, with chocolate brown curls that fell to her waist, large hazel eyes and soft, rosy lips. Grace smiled, equally as taken in by this handsome young man with tousled dark blonde hair and brown eyes and a charming smile. Her eyes fell to the fact that he had his hand over hers. Embarrassed, Ash drew his hand away. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s alright.” Watching him struggle with the parcels, Grace bit her lip. “Here, let me help you.”

She picked up the remainder of the parcels, much to Ash’s surprise. “That’s very kind of you,” he stammered. 

“You’ve certainly got a lot of things here,” she commented.

“And more still to come,” Ash shrugged.

“Goodness, you must have a very big family,” Grace said.

“No, actually, just my stepfather and stepbrothers.”

“Well, where are they?” She glanced around the crowded square. “Shouldn’t they be helping you with all this?”

Ash smiled and shook his head. “They, um, had a prior engagement.”

Seeing him shuffle his feet, Grace was quick to put two and two together. “Meaning they sent you to carry all this stuff on your own?”

Ash stared at her, in surprise. “Wow, you’re good.”

She shook her head, sympathetically. “What kind of people do you live with?”

“You’ve no idea,” he told her. “Anyway, I need to get to the bakery, but thanks for your help.”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you manage all these on your own, do you? How will you see where you’re going?”

Ash smiled. “Alright, then, if you insist...”

“I do.”

“You may accompany me.”

“Lead on.”

How bizarre is this? Ash thought. The first girl I ever bump into on the streets and she not only helps me pick everything up but also wants to help me carry it all? Maybe my life just gets better from here?

Together, quite companionably, they bought the bread and cakes that Miles had ordered, and then to the tavern to pick up the beer Lord Tremaine had ordered. Ash told Grace about the farm and she was very interested to hear about all the animals. 

“Well, it’s only two horses, four goats and a pile of geese and hens, really,” Ash said, “but then we don’t really have much room for anything else.”

Grace nodded. “I love animals. We have horses and dogs, but if I had my way, I’d fill our home with as many animals as possible.”

“Like a menagerie?”

“Exactly!”

Ash smiled. That was something they had in common. “Where do you live?” he asked. 

“Oh, um, just the other side of town,” Grace replied, vaguely, and then she pretended to be distracted by a woman selling flowers who had just come up to them. 

“Buy a flower, miss?” she asked. 

Grace smiled. “Oh, they’re lovely, but I’m afraid I haven’t anything on me. Sorry.”

Balancing the parcels on one knee, Ash reached for his moneybag. He had a little leftover and flowers weren’t too expensive in this part of town. “One rose,” he said, handing over the money. 

“Oh, you don’t have-” began Grace, but the woman had already accepted the money and was picking out a rose.

“Call it a thank you,” Ash replied, “for helping me.”

“Here you are, lovey,” said the woman, handing Grace a pink rose. She took it with a smile and turned to Ash. “Well, thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Ash returned her smile. “I don’t know how I would have managed all this without your help.”

“Well, my parents always taught me to be kind to people,” she replied. “Is this all now?”

“Yes, we’d better get it all back to the cart,” he replied.

Grace followed him and helped him load it all aboard. Then she patted the horses. “This one’s Major, and that’s Victoria,” Ash introduced her. “She’s mine. Major was my mother’s before...”

She understood. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, thanks for all your help,” Ash said. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I ought to find my friend; sort of lost track of her.” Even as she said it, Grace spotted her maid weaving her way through the crowds. “Eliza!” she called, waving, and then to Ash, “We’ll be alright walking back.”

“Right, well, thanks again.” Ash clambered aboard the cart just as Eliza spotted them. “I hope we meet again.”

“So do I,” she smiled. “Oh, wait,” she began but Ash had already cracked the reins and started for home. “I never got your name,” she murmured, playing with the rose petals.

“There you are, my lady!” Eliza scolded her as she reached her. “I thought I told you not to wander off!”

“I’m sorry, Eliza. I didn’t mean to; I got distracted.”

“So I see,” Eliza grinned, folding her arms. “Quite a handsome looking young man there. What was his name?”

“I have no idea,” sighed Grace, twirling the rose between her fingers. “But I have a strange desire to call him Prince Charming!”


	3. A Little Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a handsom young man whose wicked stepfather and ugly stepbrothers forced him to do all the housework after his mother died. A chance meeting with a beautiful woman at the market makes him look at life anew; but that woman is none other than a princess. Throw into the mix a dizzy fairy godmother, a royal ball, some golden leather shoes and a spell that will only last until midnight and the scene is set for a familiar fairytale with a genderbent twist!

Ash’s head was reeling. How had this happened? Usually when he went to market, he didn’t meet anyone but today, well, somehow or other that incredibly beautiful, graceful, enchanting girl had wandered into his life. 

He was halfway home when he realised that he had forgotten to get her name; he had been too taken with her beauty and kindness. Without her name, how would he ever find her again? 

“If it’s meant to be then it’s meant to be,” he said. His mother always used to say that. He smiled, thinking about her. What would she make of this situation? In his mind he conjured up an image of her. He remembered she was curvy and soft and blonde and beautiful, and he could still hear her voice, sweet and kind. 

“Mother, what do you think?” he asked, not caring if anyone saw him talking to himself. “Is it meant to be? Her and I?”

“Her and me,” the vision of his mother corrected him, gently. “She certainly was a very pretty girl. Do you want to see her again?”

“I’d love to see her again, but I don’t know how to find her without knowing her name.”

“Oh, sweetie,” and the vision patted his hand. “If it’s meant to be then it’s meant to be.”

“Meaning that if we’re meant to be together, I’ll find her without it?” Ash realised. 

“Correct.” His mother kissed his cheek and then faded. Ash sighed. It was only in his mind, he knew, but each time his mother vanished like that, it only served to make him feel more alone than ever. “Giddy up,” he muttered to Major and Victoria, cracking the reins. 

“You’re late,” snapped his stepfather the second he was through the door, laden with parcels. 

“Sorry, Stepfather,” muttered Ash, unloading the parcels onto the hall table. 

“Well, there’s an awful lot of mending to be done, and then you can get on with making our supper!” snapped Lord Tremaine. 

Ash sighed and stretched, hearing bones click in his back. “Can’t I rest a little first? I’ve been rushed off my feet all day.”

“Very well, you may have a short break. Did you enjoy it? Good. Now get to the kitchen!”

Lord Tremaine swept from the room. Ash groaned and, taking the food parcels with him, did as he was told. He couldn’t wait for night to come; then he could finally sleep.

“This is insane,” he groaned. “They won’t even let me rest for five minutes! Is that too much to ask?” He sighed, picked up a shirt with a torn cuff and began to stitch. 

Several bloody and bandaged fingers later, Ash sighed, laid down the last piece of mending, which was a coat that had had several buttons mysteriously pulled off, and put his head in his hands. Now for supper. But he just couldn’t face cooking, he just couldn’t. He felt too tired. 

A knock at the back door suddenly startled him. He jumped and looked up in surprise. “Yes?” he said, trying to work out who the hell it could be at this hour. The milkman, the postman, the rag-and-bone man, that mad woman who came begging for table scraps, they had all been today and he couldn’t think of anyone else who came calling via the back door. Unless...his heart leapt. Had his mystery girl somehow found him?

Jumping to his feet, he quickly smoothed down his clothes and patted down his hair before going to open the door. 

But it wasn’t her. Instead it was a woman in a velvet sea green cloak. She looked to be about the same age as his mother and had a shock of white blonde hair, like candyfloss, piled up on her head and bright emerald-green eyes. Beneath her cloak, she wore a pink taffeta dress and sparkling slippers. 

“Oh,” said Ash, trying to conceal his disappointment. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

“I am so sorry to call so late,” said the woman, “but I was just passing by and I couldn’t trouble you for a drink of water, could I? My throat is parched and my feet are practically blistered with walking so far.”

“Oh, by all means,” said Ash, stepping back. “Come in, rest yourself. I’ll fetch you some water, or maybe you’d like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” replied the woman, smiling as she stepped into the kitchen and looked around. “Well, goodness, this place doesn’t seem to have changed a bit!” she added, removing her cloak and patting her hair into place. 

“You’ve been here before?” Ash said, taken aback. 

“Oh, yes, I’m an old friend of darling Amelia’s,” the woman sighed. “God rest her soul. I suppose she never mentioned me?”

Ash smiled as he reached for the kettle. “She might have done. She had so many friends.”

“Oh! But I see it now, the resemblance! You’re her son, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m Ash.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you at last.” The woman clasped his hand with both of hers. “I’m Emeldra.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Ash, making the tea. “Won’t you sit down, please? Oh, excuse the mess, by the way. I was just mending some clothes, well, you can see that,” he added, holding up his bandaged fingers. 

“All these clothes belong to you?” exclaimed Emeldra, picking up the fixed coat.

“Well, no, they belong to my stepfather and stepbrothers,” Ash said, bringing over a cup of tea. 

Emeldra looked at him, carefully. “They’ve had you doing all this mending?”

Ash nodded, glumly. “I don’t want to complain, I mean, they’re my family, well, stepfamily, but now I have to make supper and then I’ll have about seven hours sleep tonight, maybe less if they come up with more chores for me to do before bed and then in the morning I have to get up and make breakfast...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, boy,” said Emeldra, holding up her hand. “You mean to say they have you cooking and cleaning and basically doing all the work in your own home like a servant?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you put up with it why?”

Ash was surprised. He had never really though about it before. “Well, I can’t leave. Where would I go?”

“Well, you can’t stay here. This isn’t a family. This isn’t a home.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the only one I’ve got,” Ash sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t complain. At least I have a roof over my head, and a bed to sleep in, even if it is in the kitchen.”

“But, sweetie, look at your fingers!” Emeldra took his hand and held it up. “They’re worked to the bone! You can’t seriously tell me you’re happy here!”

Ash shook his head. “As I said, what choice do I have.”

“Well, something has to happen soon,” replied Emeldra. “Otherwise, honey, there’s not much I can do.”

Ash glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

Emeldra smiled, and then, to his surprise, downed her tea in one gulp and got to her feet. “Well, I should be going! But, sweetie, don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

She gave him a hug and as she turned and left the room, she waved what appeared to be a glass screwdriver over her shoulder. A stream of what looked like stardust drifted over to the table. Ash followed it with his eyes and then, to his amazement, it caused three plates of hot, buttered crumpets and a pot of tea, complete with milk, sugar and three cups to appear all on one tray. 

“How did-?” Ash exclaimed, but Emeldra had gone. 

“Ash!” came the shout from upstairs. 

“Coming!” Ash called back, snatching up the tray. 

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Grace was enraptured. “Do you think he liked me, Eliza?” she asked, as her maid dressed her back in a more regal outfit; a dress of aquamarine with a swishy skirt, translucent sleeves and a silver ribbon belt. Slipping her feet into the jewelled red shoes, Grace twirled and clasped her hands theatrically. “He was so kind; much nicer than all those stuck up toffs that always come here, didn’t you think?”

“I can’t say, since I didn’t spend as much time with him as you did, young mistress,” said Eliza, only half-scolding her for wandering off. 

Grace only half heard her. “Is he eligible, do you think? Oh, he must be! There’s only one way to find out! Come on!”

“Well, wait, young miss!” exclaimed Eliza as Grace hurried from the room. “We’re not all still eighteen, you know!”

“Mama! Papa!” Grace found them in the library. 

“Ah, there you are,” said her father. 

“I have an idea about this ball!” Grace gushed. “Forget inviting all the princes and nobles in the land! I want every eligible man in the kingdom to attend!”

Her mother stared at her. “Well, has our daughter changed her mind so quickly? I am proud!”

“Oh, Mama!” sighed Grace. “Today I met a fine young man, a handsome, charming young man and I have no idea who he is! But if he turns up at the ball, then I’ll know it’s meant to be! Oh, Papa, you will make sure the invitations say that, won’t you? Every eligible man in the kingdom?”

“If that’s what you want,” smiled her father. 

“Oh, thank you, you guys are the best!” cried Grace, flinging her arms around both of them. 

And so, that very night, the invitations went out. They ran thus.

By Order Of The King And Queen  
There is to be a royal masquerade ball in the palace tonight; all eligible young men in the kingdom are invited to attend.  
Attire MUST be formal  
Signed King Sigmund and Queen Odette


	4. Emeldra Steps In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a handsom young man whose wicked stepfather and ugly stepbrothers forced him to do all the housework after his mother died. A chance meeting with a beautiful woman at the market makes him look at life anew; but that woman is none other than a princess. Throw into the mix a dizzy fairy godmother, a royal ball, some golden leather shoes and a spell that will only last until midnight and the scene is set for a familiar fairytale with a genderbent twist!

“Well, well, well,” smirked Lord Tremaine, glancing over the top of the letter. “This is interesting.”

“What?” With yolk from boiled egg all over his face, Miles looked up. Ash restrained himself from trying to wipe his face for him. The last time he had tried that he had ended up with a sprained ankle and a bruised foot. Never again, he thought. 

Piers, crunching toast, glanced up too. “Yes, what’s so interesting?”

“The King and Queen are holding a masquerade ball at the palace tonight, and all eligible young men in the kingdom are invited.” Lord Tremaine smiled. “Can you imagine why?”

“No, why?” asked Miles.

Ash raised his hand. Lord Tremain scowled at him. “Yes, did you have something to say?”

“Is it because they’re hoping that one of them will want to marry the Princess?” Ash asked. 

“The Princess?” Piers and Miles chorused as one. 

Lord Tremaine curled his lip. “Yes, well done, for once, Ash. That’s exactly it.”

Piers sprang to his feet. “The Princess? Can you imagine if she wanted to marry me?”

“Or me?” Miles added, also on his feet. 

Ash rolled his eyes but said nothing. 

“Oh, like she’d want to marry you!” scoffed Piers, folding his arms. 

“Why not?” challenged Miles. 

“Please! Look at you! She’s a beautiful, rich girl; she has far better taste!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She knows better than to pick a man who’ll eat her out of palace and home!”

“Oh, and she’d pick you because you’re so interesting?”

“What?”

“You’d put a sloth to sleep!”

Ash covered his ears as their voices threatened to lift the roof. Lord Tremaine had had enough too. He got to his feet. “Boys, that’s enough! The Princess could pick either one of you; after all, you’re both strapping, handsome boys! She’d be lucky to have one of you!”

Piers smirked. “Well, on that note, I’m going to find my best suit for the night.”

He swept from the room, calling over his shoulder, “Ash, you can clear that away!” Not adding “Please,” or “Thank you,” either, but Ash pretended not to notice. 

“Are you sure you’re done?” he called, politely.

“Of course he is!” snapped Miles, helping himself to his brothers’ leftovers.

“You’d better find your best suit too,” his father advised him, straightening his cuffs. 

Miles nodded and shuffled out of the room, taking the two plates of leftovers with him. Ash glanced at his stepfather. He never usually asked for anything, even if he really wanted it, but maybe that could mean that he was in with a chance of being granted it. “Stepfather?”

“What is it?” asked Lord Tremaine, irritated. 

“Well, I’ve never been to a masquerade before and, well, the invitation does say “all eligible me in the kingdom,” and I am, well, eligible, so...”

Lord Tremaine fixed him with a look. “Let me guess. You want to go to the ball tonight?”

Ash tried not to feel too talked down to. “Please, I’ve never asked you for anything before, and I’ll never ask for anything ever again if-”

“I’ve heard enough.” Lord Tremaine considered, and then smirked at him. “Well, I can’t think of any reason why you can’t go. If you finish all your chores by tonight.”

Ash’s heart soared. “Oh, I will! You can count on it! I’ll work extra hard to get everything finished, I promise!”

“And if you can find something other than those rages to wear.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find something.” He had a few of his father’s old suits locked away in a trunk downstairs; one of those ought to fit him, with maybe a few minor adjustments here and there. “Thank you, Stepfather!” 

Happily, he hurried from the room, not seeing the smug look on his Stepfather’s face, or hearing him mutter to himself “I must remember to give you some extra chores today.”

“What?” exclaimed Piers when he and Miles heard the news. “But we can’t have him there! He’d snap up the Princess for sure!”

“Relax, son,” replied Lord Tremaine, smoothly. “I said “if” he can get all his chores done by tonight.”

“Oh!” Piers realised. “If! I see!”

So, together, the three of them went well out of their way to find a lot of extra chores for Ash. They muddied up carpets, ripped clothing, dirtied the windows and so poor Ash found himself with no time to even eat, let alone find something to wear for the masquerade. By the time he was done, it was nine o’clock, almost time for them to leave for the palace. Ash was exhausted, besides being covered in dust and grime, so much that he looked like a chimney sweep. 

“Oh, dear, Ash,” said Lord Tremaine, with false sympathy. “You’re not ready yet.”

Ash sighed, brushing his hands onto his shirt. “I’m not going.”

“Oh, what a shame,” his stepfather remarked, coldly. 

Ash gave him a suspicious glance. “Isn’t it?”

Hitching the broom over his shoulder and trying to appear as dignified as possible, he turned and swept down to the kitchen. Bitterly he tossed the broom into a corner and sank onto a stool, head buried in his hands. He knew that they had done this on purpose so that he couldn’t go to the ball. Not that he had any designs on the Princess for himself, after all he was still infatuated with the girl he had met in town the day before, but the opportunity to go and see inside the palace would never come around again, he knew. 

“This isn’t fair,” he muttered to one of the mice that had come scuttling in, hoping for crumbs. Automatically, Ash broke of a crust of bread, crumbled it up and scattered it to the floor. The mouse scuttled towards the pile and began to tuck in. Ash sighed. Even if he did get himself cleaned up in time, he still had to find something to wear and even then he might be denied access to the palace; he had a feeling that Lord Tremaine and his sons would deny he was with them if he turned up later than they did. 

“It’d take a miracle to get me to the ball,” he sighed.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then there was a knock on the door that caused him to jump violently. “Come in!” he stammered, surprised. 

The door opened and Emeldra swept into the room. “Now, Ash,” she said, without even saying “hello” first, “what are you doing sitting here by the fire when you should be at the ball?”

Ash gaped at her. She had discarded her cloak and now wore an enormous sparkling dress and satin slippers, and with her candyfloss hair piled up high and her glass screwdriver in her hand, she looked like an ethereal being. “Huh?” he managed to stammer.

“You heard me!” Emeldra tossed her head. “Come on, get to your feet! I need to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear!”

Ash got to his feet. “What are you on about?”

“Well, you remember when I told you that I was a friend of your mothers. Well, when you were born, she made me your fairy godmother, boy!”

Ash stared at her. “F-fairy? Oh, that explains the magic yesterday, then.”

Emeldra rapped him on the head with her wand. “Exactly!”

“Ow!” Ash rubbed his head. “Easy!”

“Now, if we’re going to get you into the ball, we’re going to need, hm, a pumpkin, four mice, and some lizards. Come on, hop to it, Ash!”

Puzzled, but not wishing to argue with someone who had just hit him with her wand, Ash quickly ran outside. There was a large yellow pumpkin outside in the pumpkin patch. He pulled it up and hurried it back to Emeldra. “Oh, not here, boy! Outside, shoo, shoo!” 

Ash stumbled back outside with the pumpkin. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see,” replied Emeldra, and with a deft flick of her wand, the pumpkin became...a bicycle.

“Oh, dear, that’s not right,” muttered Emeldra. “Let’s try again.”

The pumpkin became a hay cart. Emeldra sighed, tapped her wand and tried once more. This time the pumpkin became a glittering carriage. 

Ash stared. “Oh, my-!”

“No time, no time,” Emeldra sang. “The mice, if you please.”

Ash ran back inside. He was in luck. Three other mice had joined the first as the pile of crumbs. He quickly caught them up inside a small box and carried them back to her. Emeldra turned them into four fine white horses. Finally, when Ash had caught three lizards, she changed them into a driver and two footmen. 

“There we are, now, Ash! You’d better hop in if you don’t want to be late for the ball! Emeldra trilled. 

“Um, I can’t go like this,” Ash reminded her, plucking at his filthy rags. 

“Whoops! Of course you can’t! How silly of me!” With another flick of her wand, there was a blinding flash of purple smoke and Ash found himself wearing a fine blue suit, trimmed with gold, and golden leather boots on his feet. 

“Oh, Emeldra, this is-!” Ash flung himself at her for a hug. “Thank you so much!”

“Aw, you’re welcome, pet. Just one thing; you must leave the ball before midnight; otherwise you’ll be dancing in your old rags again and all this magic will vanish.” 

She handed him a blue and gold mask and as Ash clambered into the carriage, he felt a rush of excitement. He would go to the ball after all...


End file.
